


Lost in Fog

by nocturneequuis



Series: Little Pieces of Heaven [3]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-01
Updated: 2017-04-01
Packaged: 2018-10-13 11:03:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10512453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nocturneequuis/pseuds/nocturneequuis
Summary: Punk Hazard is long behind and Dressarosa has fallen. In the meantime Smoker has a lot to think about. Things of the past, of the future, and old friends come again.





	

In theory, Smoker tended to like cool grey days thick with fog. In practice, however, while he still liked them, it was annoying when everyone kept running into him. On the other hand, he thought, as he liberally cuffed Hammer Hand Jack Jack and tossed him into the growing pile, that could, on occasion, be advantageous.

Especially since Tashigi was looking for him in one direction and G5 the other, their calls muffled in the fog. Worried about him, the idiots. Even though they hadn’t exactly come here for R&R. Mostly they’d gotten side-tracked into thinning down the a particular pirate group that was running the next island over to the ground. Not that it was difficult. Which was why Tashigi had insisted that he stay in and rest. 

Screw that. He, scars throbbing, both old and new, preferred to stand in the fog and think. He had no rocks to do it with on this island and so he stacked criminals instead, of which Foggy Bottom had in spades. Just by standing here he’d caught at least three of the Red Bead Gang, two Dead-Eyed Bills and almost all of the Pinky Finger Pirates as well as an assorted hodgepodge of lowlifes. 

It was the fog that drew them here, he knew. It was so easy to hide in. You didn’t have to worry about finding the right amount of cover, or who might spot you from the left or right, or above or below. But it also made people stupid, careless. They forgot all about the other people who might be in the fog. They forgot that there might be those with keener eyes and sharper noses that could find them out regardless of the mist. It would be like shooting fish in a barrel if he didn’t let them come to him first. 

Eventually he would go out and seek them, just to comb up the last dregs and deliver them to G-5’s cells where they would face trial and then justice… Whatever that word meant anymore. He used to know, or at least have a better idea than he did now. Justice was taking pirates and criminals and locking them up and making them face due process of law so innocents could go about their business safe and unmolested. In that way, he had thought, the government; not a perfect system by any means, worked.

And yet it was the same government that had sat on its hands and let a Shichibukai rain years of terror over a specific island because he was useful after all and a Tenryuubito; however fallen. But Smoker was willing to bet he wouldn’t face the same kind of justice that any common criminal would. He couldn’t even see them putting him in Impel Down. And it all came down to the damn matter of blood. 

"Are you still sulking?" Aokiji’s voice came from the fog behind him and Smoker jolted-- a little twitch of the shoulder, but enough so that he was annoyed at himself. These criminals weren’t the only ones who had gotten careless. He shifted a little to squint at the tall, angular, man; annoyed at how he could blend in so well. Or maybe it wasn't so much blending in as showing up just when you weren't looking.

In any case, he grunted in reply. He was not sulking. He never sulked. He didn't have time or inclination to sulk. He did favor a good brood now and then-- but that was just to keep his spirits up. This, however, was neither. Here he was ruminating since he wasn’t an emotionally compromised teenager anymore or even in his twenties. 

"You should be resting," Aoki-- no…Kuzan said in that even voice which let no emotion one way or another. As it was it was hard to tell what exactly he was asking-- or maybe looking for-- but even harder behind those glasses and his decidedly civilian garb.

Smoker grunted again effectively saying he ddn't give a damn about that and only winced a little as he rasied his hand to light a fresh pair of cigars. The fact was, dressed like that and somewhat dishonorably leaving the Navy, or so went some of the gossip, Smoker's superficial instincts called him a criminal.  
But he wasn't a stupid man and knew, whatever else Kuzan might be, he wasn't that. Though the line these days was becoming increasingly blurred and that he couldn't tell the difference anymore was part of the reason why he was stacking criminals in the first place. He was kind of freaking annoyed by Kuzan’s presence actually. A growing feeling of discontentment that started up right from his gut. He couldn't define it our pin down what was causing it which only served to annoy him more

"Need something?" He said, meaning, 'you came back. why did you come back. why the hell did you leave. For that matter, why were you there still on Punk Hazard? Were you watching? Waiting? Striking deals? How did you follow me? What do you want? Who are you now?'

"I was in the area," Kuzan replied, meaning what, Smoker didn't know-- but annoyingly vaguely answering all his unasked questions in one fell swoop. He ground his cigars between his teeth a moment and debated adding him to the criminal stack just to be an ass.

He watched, vaguely irritated as Slim Hand Sam, another member of the Pinky Finger Gang, wandered in between them, looking nervously right and left --startling as she noticed Kuzan but not seeming to see Smoker at all.

"Oi," he said, annoyed, since he didn't blend in that well, damnit. She saw him, and bolted, only to scream as she slid on a patch of ice that sent her spinning right around in a u-turn and up a sudden ice ramp to end up on the top of the pile with an undignified grunt. 

"Show off," Smoker muttered and Kuzan only breathed a fond laugh which gave Smoker decidedly uncomfortable warm fuzzies which made him hate Kuzan all the more. It wasn't sexual, thank god but camaraderie feels were *enough* to deal with especially when one of them wasn't part of the group anymore. He circumvented this annoying display of emotion by turning and handcuffing Sam who squinted at him in the fog and said: 

"You're blushing."

He glared at her, though it was more internal than not, smoke hissing between his teeth. She covered her face with her hands with a yelp and he patted her head, careful to avoid the several bear traps which were laced into it.

"You didn't have to leave," he told Kuzan finally, stepping back to count his pile. Twenty-Seven so far, sixteen of them from the Pinky Finger Pirates. Not bad for an hour's work. He expected Kuzan to hedge, or say something the equivalent of: ‘Maa, well…’ Which always drove Smoker nuts because finish your sentences, damnit. He half even expected to make a joke. 

Which made what Kuzan did say feel like a punch to the gut. 

"I won't be a tool for him," he said simply. "Sengoku tried. He didn't always succeed but I knew where his heart was. Sakazuki..." He made a noise, another breathy laugh, but bitter. "Maa, well, I know where his heart is too."

"You could challenge him again," Smoker said, knowing he couldn't. But he wanted Kuzan to. He couldn’t say much for Sengoku one way or the other. The guy had always seemed just there. A member of the Naval Bueauracracy, to be obeyed when he wanted and circumvented when there were higher things at stake… At least he thought so until Marine Ford. But then a lot had changed his mind then. Though he still didn’t understand Sengoku’s heart entirely, except that of an old man trying to do his duty; what he saw-- had seen of Akainu’s had sickened him. 

And yet here he was, still part of the system. 

Though not his tool. Never that. 

“Challenge him?” Kuzan said, and Smoker heard the joke in his tone before it even came. He wouldn’t be annoyed by it. "Do you miss me that much, Smo-yan? Do you want me back? I didn’t know you cared."

"Shut up!" Smoker bellowed, face searing even more as he aimed a punch at his former commander/mentor/friend. It hit and he felt the solidness of ice under his fist. He had a brief thought of admiring Kuzan’s reaction time when he realized it felt different. He couldn’t pin down why but there was something about the resonance, something about the hardness. 

“Yes, it’s just ice now,” Kuzan said, casually as if talking about the weather. “But don’t be concerned.” 

“Like I would be.” But he wanted to know just how much Kuzan had lost to that fight. On the other hand what good would knowing do? It would only serve to irritate him more. Maybe Akainu had won, but where did that leave Kuzan now? What was he except a broken man? 

“Anyway even if I could return…,” Kuzan continued. "I've gotten too old to fight for Justice when I can't even tell what it is any more." He regarded Smoker evenly. "You'll lose that too if you let them promote you."

Smoker grunted, folding his arms. He knew. Of course he did. But he was determined to fight it and have his own way anyway, as much as he could. He had to or the Navy would follow a course that was too horrible to contemplate. Of fire and blood and poor bastards getting killed for the wrong kinds of both.

"Fujitora is a good man," Kuzan said. "And he can work with the system. As well as outside it.”

Smoker let that sink in to say he had acknowledged it and knew it and it still all annoyed the hell out of him. He knew Fujitora even less, but was able to trust Kuzan’s judgment at least that far. Still… Still… 

"He's not you..." he said when the silence had gone on long enough. Kuzan said nothing. Made no noise. But rested a light hand on his shoulder, squeezing briefly before letting go.

"That bus so bootiful!" No Toe John blubbered.

Smoker smacked him upside the head as the red seared his face once more. This was why he liked rocks. They didn't talk! Why they hell where they listening in anyway? Though he supposed he deserved it if he was going to talk so freely in front of criminals. Smoker ground the cigars once more between his teeth, irritation rolling hot in his belly-- only to cool in an instant as Kuzan said: 

“I’ll miss you.” His voice was faint as if he was already going and Smoker glanced over his shoulder just enough to see that he was. He turned away and sighed, looking down at the ground.

"I'll miss you too," he muttered. Knowing somehow Kuzan had heard.

And then it was just him in the cold and the gray and the fog, and the pile of criminals crying like the touched idiots they were.


End file.
